Small Talk
by Rainstorm Amaya Arianrhod
Summary: Vania climbs a tree, Alan escapes a court lady, and Lianne fails to get rid of a suitor. Alan II/Lianne II


**A/N:** Hope you like. Dedicated to Kally, whose Lianne/Alan is an inspiration. _**Please read and review!**_

**Disclaimer:** TP owns Tortall.

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"Good evening, your Highness."

_This palace is supposed to be a rabbit's warren, full of useless little corridors, oddly shaped rooms and unexpected courtyards, so why is it so easy for any courtier to find me when I just want some peace and quiet?_ Lianne of Conté thought irritably. She composed her features into a facsimile of a smile, and said: "And to yourself, Sir Dorian. What brings you to such an isolated spot at such a busy time? Surely there are matters that command your attention?"

Perhaps if she hit him over the head with the fact that she didn't want him there he would go away.

"Why, an insatiable craving for the lovely princess's smiles." Sir Dorian offered a smile in return. It was glittery and white-toothed, and lit up his grey eyes, but did nothing to ameliorate the truth that he had a pearl clasp in his hair. Now, Lianne was well aware that such clasps were the rage, but she really thought it made Sir Dorian look like a particularly effeminate idiot.

"A craving I fear will not be satisfied," Lianne said with the most realistic false sorrow she could manage, "for I am in no very cheerful mood, Sir Knight. Perhaps if you wish a princess's smiles you could assist my sister with her attempt?..." Lianne waved a hand in the direction of the apple tree in the centre of the courtyard, which Vania was trying to climb. Her excuse for hiding in this courtyard was keeping an eye on her sister, but she knew quite well that Vania would be more likely to bounce than break a bone if she fell, and so had instead been reading. "I am unable to, as you see, for my skirts bar me from any strenuous activity."

This was perfectly true; the long skirts of her ballgown, rustling rich brown silk embroidered in dark blue and silver, pre-empted any tree-climbing. They also meant that Lianne couldn't escape her would-be suitor, but they didn't stop her enjoying the horrified look on Sir Dorian's face as he eyed the youngest Conté child. Vania was dressed in an elegant blue and silver tunic and hose in preparation for her brief appearance at the ball, and looked quite lovely, but she was also scrambling about in a tree with no thought for her elegance and would doubtless expect Sir Dorian to do the same. Lianne was no expert on the man himself, but she was almost certain he would not risk his brightly coloured tunic and hose, fashionably slashed with ill-advisedly long pointed shoes, in climbing a tree.

Let's see him get out of this one, Lianne thought vindictively.

"Ah... my princess, I believe I am not so... hardy as your charming sister, and where she escapes with naught but a bruise my own payment might be a broken limb. Might I instead bask in your highness's grace?" He sat down beside her, and she was too busy wondering how a ninny like him ever survived page-training to object. Reluctantly, she closed her book. _Discourses on the Human System_ would have to wait.

"I am afraid I have little grace to bask in, but should you so wish I suppose you may," Lianne said, doing her best not to sound ungracious. It was Kally who had taught her, as best she could, to dress up her sentences and make them sound less rude than she wanted them to be, but Lianne had never really taken to the lesson. The import of her words was usually quite clear.

However, Sir Dorian did not notice the clear message of 'I don't want you to but I suppose I can't stop you', and instead steamrollered on. "I cannot help but notice how fine you look, my lady. That is a beautiful dress, and though your beauty outshines it-"

_Oh, yes, right_, Lianne thought sarcastically. _Why don't you tell the truth? I have neither Kally's beauty nor the charm Vania will have when she grows up. I'm the plain daughter, for Mithros's sake!_

"-the two form a whole that could light the world if the sun ceased to shine. May I ask if there is someone who is intended to see your beauty as it truly is?"

_That's a pretty dress. Who are you wearing it for?_ Lianne translated, and desperately tried to think of a reply. The truth was that she liked this shade of brown and she liked the dress. The only person she wanted to see her beauty was just as likely to see it when she was muddy and bad-tempered after a ride in the rain than in a ballroom, in fact, more so. Therefore, primping and preening was useless.

She managed to put something together. "In truth I wear the dress because I am fond of it," she said, smiling weakly. "I care not whether it draws eyes to me or not."

Oops. Bad move. Lianne saw the satisfied smile on his face only a moment before he replied. "Ah, so the knight of your heart has not noticed? My princess, he is not worthy of your love. Let those who truly adore you replace him."

Lianne experienced a sudden urge to dot him over the head with _Discourses on the Human Body_. It was a sizeable book, and if she tried hard enough she could probably knock him out. And then it would be a simple matter to claim that he had fainted. Her parents might not believe her, but her mother would support her decision regardless and if she pitched a merciless imitation of the man just right she could make her father laugh so hard he gasped for breath and completely forgot to scold her. She stilled her hands in her lap, and thought relentlessly of Kally's patience in the face of doe-eyed and foolish suitors. An example which she ought to aspire to, and yet... and yet... batting him over the head with the book held more appeal.

"I have no knight of my heart," she said crossly, coming as close to a snap as it was politic to do in courtly conversation. "Nor do I intend to swoon at some knight's feet; I believe that one should try to exercise some rational thought even in love, and swooning is not compatible with rationality!"

Sir Dorian laughed, damn him, although there was a tinge of unease to it. "My princess, you are charming. Few ladies are so intelligent. Tell me, what is the book you read?"

_Aha_, the princess thought with savage glee. _Here we go_. "It is Blekei's _Discourses on the Human Body_," she said, lifting the book and affecting nonchalance, although holding it in midair with one hand was going to make the muscles at the crook of her elbow ache, she just knew it. "I find it most illuminating, and a great help with my studies. My father has given permission for me to train my Gift further as a healer, you know," she added casually. "It is an excellent thing that I have never been squeamish. I hope to travel to the mages' school in the desert soon."

The unease in Sir Dorian's face grew. Possibly he had once courted Kally, and now transferring his affections to her sister had expected someone with equal sweetness of nature. Empress Kalasin showed a cheerful ruthlessness that both her sisters shared, but Princess Kalasin had been very careful to keep it well hidden. "The desert? My princess, I am charmed by your adventurous nature, but surely the City of the Gods-"

"The City of the Gods will not provide me with the specialised education that the desert school will," Lianne interrupted, with her most dazzling smile. Ha, a weak spot- he may be stupid and persistent, but he's a stupid persistent wimp. The thought of a walk in the Lower City would probably bring him out in a rash. "And besides-" she cranked up 

the brightness of the smile, adding a fluttering of long black lashes- "it is very important that nobles learn from other cultures, do you not agree, Sir Dorian?"

It was plain that he didn't agree. And gracious Goddess, was that makeup on his face, covering a pimple? "But my lady," he stammered, shocked, "surely you can learn all you need here, at your father's court, where the finest are brought togeth-"

"May I cut in?"

Lianne felt her heart leap, and she looked up above Sir Dorian's neatly combed head to Alan of Pirate's Swoop's face, deeply tanned and uncompromising. She smiled, this time honestly. "Alan! What took you such an age?"

"Waylaid by Lady Jocelyn," Alan said, his voice level, and Lianne felt laughter in her throat. Alan loathed Lady Jocelyn unconditionally. He bowed to Sir Dorian. "Sir, I believe the Lady Jocelyn would be gladder of your escort than Princess Lianne; alas, her escort has deserted her, and she is in some distress. I would have aided her in her difficulty, but I have promised Princess Lianne that I will escort her to the ball."

With a bad grace, Sir Dorian stood. Alan did not sit down, but waited for him to leave, one pale eyebrow raised questioningly. _Why are you still here?_ it said quite plainly.

Apparently, Sir Dorian was less deaf to the messages of Alan's left eyebrow than he was to Lianne's carefully spoken courtly snubs. He bowed to Lianne. "May I at least hope for a dance, my lady?"

"I fear not, Sir Knight," Lianne said, with regrettable cheerfulness. "I have promised my dances to others already. Good evening, sir. I hope the Lady Jocelyn is less callous than I."

The knight bowed again, and left, with a truly poisonous glare for Alan. Alan remained on his feet, a thoughtful look on his face. "Shall I catch up to him? There is time for me to slap him across the face with a glove, duel him, and leave him tied up in a cupboard until after the ball so he can't pester you."

Lianne laughed merrily, glad to be able to say what she thought away from the wretched Sir Dorian. "Only one small problem. You don't have a glove."

Alan grinned. "I'm sure Nia will lend me a shoe, or something."

She took his hand, and drew him down to sit beside her. He was wearing green, which made his hazel eyes look green as well. "Don't bother. Let's just sit here... and enjoy a few moments of pea-"

"Ow!" came the startled exclamation from behind them in the courtyard, and both Alan and Lianne leapt to their feet and turned.

Vania sat on the ground, rubbing her head, and looking in astonishment at the top of the apple tree, which she had evidently achieved while Lianne was still enduring Sir Dorian's odd combination of flattery and wimpishness. "I fell!" the girl said, startled.

Alan laughed and stepped into the courtyard, holding out his hands for Vania to take and pull herself up off the ground. Lianne noticed the last of the sunlight glinting off his reddish-blond hair, thick and not properly combed.

_Oh, so did I, little sister, so did I_, she thought, and then:_ but I suspect my bruises will be less in need of_ medical_ attention than yours_, as she followed Alan into the courtyard.


End file.
